A few months later

“You naughty, naughty man,” Ben murmured, clenching his fist in victory. According to the results on his screen, the target had indeed traveled to the port in question, contrary to what he’d told police. The client would be pleased.

The client in this case was the RSPCA, who’d hired Paladin Private Investigations to track a purveyor of exotic animals and stolen pedigree dogs.

In conjunction with several law firms, Paladin specialized in righting the sort of wrongs the police hadn’t much time for: missing persons, animal trafficking, sexual harassment, and workplace and housing discrimination. The company regularly turned away clients who wanted to catch cheating spouses or stalk old flames. “There’s enough shite in the world without us adding another shovelful,” their president, Hamid, liked to say.

Next month, Ben would start training in both the classroom and the field to become one of Paladin’s investigators. For now, he was providing support to the firm’s six PIs—and most importantly, upgrading Paladin’s GIS capabilities.

The door to their Sauchiehall Street office creaked open. In walked the most handsome man Ben had ever seen.

He wiped his expensive brogues on the mat, then took off his rain-spattered, tortoiseshell-framed glasses and peered through them at the office’s geometric steel chandelier. “How do you keep these things dry?” Evan asked Ben.

“I make an awning out of my own hair.” Ben tugged forward his quiff, which sprang back into place when he let go. “Next time, wear a fedora for the complete posh prat picture.”

Hamid came out of his office to greet Evan. “How’d it go?”

“As expected.” Evan slipped out of his raincoat and hung it on the rack. “The flat became magically available once this white guy wanted it.” He pointed to himself.

“I knew it!” Hamid smacked his hands together. “Give Ben the recording, and you two can draft the report together. Meanwhile I’ll phone the clients.” He chuckled gleefully as he returned to his office. “Their lawyer will be thrilled.”

Evan undid the top buttons of his shirt and pulled out the wire he’d been wearing. He handed the equipment to Ben. “Won’t be long before you’re out there with me.” He looked at Ben’s desk, his eyes widening. “You got your name plaque!”

“I did.” Ben beamed as Evan picked up the engraved brass and wooden sign and turned it to face him. Behnam Reid, it said. He’d already sent a pic of it to his mum.

Evan went to change back into his own clothes, then returned to review their findings. Ben was already updating the report on the block of flats in Glasgow’s City Centre. When Hamid, a Pakistani man, had attempted to let a flat, he’d been turned away, even though his cover’s income and credit history had been far superior to those of Evan’s cover.

By the time they’d drafted the report and sent it to Hamid, it was nearly six o’clock. Time to go home.

Evan’s flat was their home now—for two weeks, anyway, until the lease began on the place Ben would share with their friend Robert, who’d also recently graduated. It was an arrangement that would’ve seemed impossible a few months ago when Robert’s partner, Liam, had hated Evan’s guts. But all the Warriors had a different view of Evan now that they had an inkling why he’d left last year.

The day’s rain had done little to dispel the summer heat, so they walked slowly down the pavement through the heavy air.

It was rare for them to leave the office together. While Ben worked regular hours, Evan often did nighttime and weekend surveillance or undercover work. But Ben didn’t mind, as it gave him time to plan the autumn crop of same-sex weddings—with his mum’s assistance whenever possible.

The jobs with Paladin had been Evan’s idea, and Ben had been shocked he’d not thought of it himself. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to use his skills to uncover secrets and help people, all without signing over his life and soul to the government.

It seemed a natural turn for Evan, too, after Jordan had blown his cover in public at the Rainbow Regiment wedding. Since MI5 couldn’t Official-Secrets-Act the entire football park, that day had been the end of the road for Evan and Her Majesty’s Security Service. It was just as well, since after Jordan’s attack, Evan was more ready than ever to turn his talents toward an equally meaningful but less traumatic job.

“How was therapy this morning?” Ben asked him now.

“Good. I like going more frequently. We can spend less time dealing with symptoms and more time helping me make sense of myself and what I had to do.”

“What do you mean?” Ben knew Evan might not be able to talk about it—emotionally or legally—but he always asked.

Evan looked round before replying. “Leaving the Service. Sometimes I still feel a failure. But my therapist is pure clever. She kens I’m an athlete, so she’s always using sport metaphors. She says what happened in Belfast was like having a Grade 3 ACL tear.”

“A what, now?”

“It’s a knee injury which almost always ends a pro footballer’s career. Anyway, she pointed out that after your ACL tear heals, your pain may be gone and you can walk and run, but that doesn’t mean the injury hasn’t changed what you’re capable of. A striker may never again be able to take on massive center-backs week after week. He has to retire.”

“How sad.”

“It doesn’t have to be. That’s the point: Pro football isn’t life, and neither is MI5. They’re jobs.” Evan gestured back in the direction of the Paladin office. “I can still make a difference without putting myself in danger—and better yet, without being alone.”

Without being alone. After years of thinking he was destined for singlehood, Ben was still learning to accept that he deserved to be in love. Just last week he and Evan had dinner with two of his Glasgow Bahá’í friends, a gathering initiated by Ben even though he was scared they might show the same sadness his mum had felt after meeting Evan.

He needn’t have worried. His friends had treated Evan the way they would have treated a girlfriend—with warmth, respect, and good-natured banter. They didn’t pull Ben aside and warn him of his sins or say something like, “He’s great, but…”

It wasn’t an exoneration, as these two Bahá’ís didn’t represent the wider community. But it was enough to give Ben hope.

When they arrived at Evan’s flat, Trent greeted them as if they were astronauts returning to earth after a five-year voyage. They gave her dinner and playtime, until she finally curled up on her heated window perch, dismissing them with a flick of her tail.

As they moved to the kitchen to make dinner, their phones simultaneously emitted the signature BBC news-alert sound.

Ben pulled his out to read, ‘ISIS’ threat to gay weddings found to be a hoax.

“Oh my God.” He tapped on the notification to read the article. It briefly outlined how the alleged “leak” of the planned ISIS attacks on same-sex weddings had originated with an unnamed extreme-right-wing group, which had gone on to propagate the rumors on social media. “That’s pure twisted.”

Evan set his phone on the table. “Must be a relief to know your weddings are safe—as safe as anything can be in this world.”

The news didn’t totally surprise Ben, not after what had happened with Jordan at the last wedding. Still, something felt off. “It’s hard to believe those Nazi dunderheads could manage an elaborate scheme like this all by themselves.”

“Mmmm,” Evan said. “So how hungry are you? I was thinking of making a curry, but—”

“You know something about this.” Ben held up his phone. “You worked on the investigation, didn’t you?”

“That was in another life.” Evan opened the fridge. “The important thing is that now people know they can’t believe everything they read online.”

Ben doubted that was the only important thing—and he wondered how long the public would even remember this scam—but for once he didn’t feel the urge to press further. At Paladin, he and Evan shared secrets with each other instead of keeping them from each other. Now their trust had room to grow.

He went to Evan and slipped an arm round his waist. “Have I ever told you how much your detective disguises turn me on?”

Evan pulled him close. “Including today’s posh prat?”

“Including that. Though last week’s turn as a meter reader was particularly…electric.”

Evan groaned at Ben’s pun. “It’s brilliant being someone else for a peedie while. I canna wait for you to try it.”

“Me neither.” Ben held him tighter. “And I promise all my selves will love all your selves.”

“They all love you too.” He bent his head to nuzzle Ben’s neck. “Now let them prove it.” Ben laughed, and after a moment, Evan added, “Aye, that was an odd thing to say. Let me prove it.”

“Fire in,” Ben said, though the last thing he needed was proof of Evan’s love. His uncertainty had faded ages ago, replaced by an ever-deepening faith—in Evan, in himself, and in everything that connected them to each other and to this impossibly imperfect world.

A world worth fighting for.